


Static

by Tree_no3



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 19:10:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15153740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tree_no3/pseuds/Tree_no3
Summary: Clint makes weird food and Natasha goes poof, leaving Coulson listening to static.





	Static

It wasn’t that she hated the house. Natasha just… really hated the house they were using as a base, and it did not help that she Clint and Coulson had been there for 3 weeks waiting for a go. Also, it had a kitchen, which meant Clint had started experimenting. Plus, to make matters worse they were out of coffee. Whoever had stocked the place hadn’t taken into account Clint’s above average consumption rate of the stuff, as well as his distaste for shopping and consistent overly selective take on what “good coffee” was.  
“Goooooood morning, ‘Tasha!” Called the idiot from the hall leading to the kitchen and living combined room.  
“It’s 14:00, Clint. It hasn’t been morning for hours.”  
“The only good mornings are the ones I’m not awake for. That makes this morning a very good one.” Clint moved into the kitchen, checking all the cabinets for god knows what. Actually, Natasha wasn’t sure god knew either.  
“For the last time, CLint, we are out of coffee.” sighed Phil. Ok so maybe Coulson knew, didn't mean god did too.  
“But it’s been a whole dayyyyyyy!” whined Clint like the baby he was.  
“If you want coffee then go buy some.” Coulson said, his face carefully blank. Clint narrowed his eyes at him, technically Coulson could order him to go get coffee, he was incharge after all, but they all knew that no matter how much he threatened to, Coulson would never pull rank on the petty stuff. Clint pouted, with his elbows propped up on the counter. Then he turned to the fridge, and took out some eggs, cheese, bacon, onion, and some miscellaneous sauces.  
“Omelette?” he asked to no one in particular.  
“I’ll take one,” said Natasha, “but please don’t put in anything questionable.”  
“Would I ever?” Responded Clint, smirking.  
“Yes please, Clint.” Coulson said, much more optimistic about Clint’s inventions. Clint moved about in the kitchen, quietly swearing when he dropped something. NAtasha settled back and waited for him to be done. To be quite honest, Clint wasn’t a bad person to go on missions with. He A.willingly made food, B.could make conversation, and C. could adapt to new situations. But sometimes he got creative. With all of the above.  
“Here you go, ‘Tasha. Here you are Phil.” Clint handed them both plates with incredibly innocent-looking food adorning them. Natasha narrowed her eyes at hers. She thought she might smell hoisin sauce. Well, it wasn’t the weirdest thing Clint had made. Not by a long shot. Natasha took a few bites, and realising she liked it, decided to forgive Clint. She looked to see what Clint had made for himself and Coulson. Both were normal looking omelettes with no strange looking sauces or chunks of miscellaneous solids. Batasha pursed her lips.  
“How do you like Hoisin sauce? I figured you could try it and tell me what you thought before i put it in anyone else’s.” Clint asked smugly.  
“It’s surprisingly good, Clint,” Natasha responded, smiling eerily. She’d get Clint back for it later. They all knew it was only a matter of time. Coulson tried and failed to hide his amusement with the two.

\-----

The call for them to go out had come at 03:48. Clint and Natasha were supposed to be out by 04:30. Coulson would stay and run support from the house. 04:27. Coulson hated the waiting. Hated the wait before the missions started, the wait if one of his agents couldn’t talk and their body cams had no clear footage, the wait during radio silence, and most of all, the wait to hear if someone was ok. He shuffled his feet, watching Clint recheck his bow. This was not a dangerous mission by his team’s standards. They had to go, talk to an enhanced peron, get them to come in, or shoot them. They had done it before. They could do it again. It did not mean Coulson enjoyed the waiting. 04:28.  
“Wanna check the car?” Clint asked Natasha. He was a little nervous as well, and his jaw was just a little tense. Also, he was fidgeting, and running his hand through his amazing hair. Which would be amazing to any casual observer. Coulson definitely was not crushing on Clint. He was too professional. God, Clint would be the end of him.  
“Yeah, sure,” Natasha was calm as ever, not a hair or nervous twitch out of place. Coulson was really glad he was not the enhanced. The two assassins left the room, and Coulson watched them – Clint mostly– leave. They’d come back. They always came back. Coulson went to his computer setup. 04:30. He could hear the car driving off to the town which was about a mile away.  
“Can you two heart me ok?” He asked.  
“Loud and clear. Mostly loud.” Complained Natasha.  
“Naw, not really. Can you make mine louder?” Complained Clint, “Sorry, what was that? Was that a yes?”  
“How about now?” Sighed Coulson, after adjusting their respective volumes.  
“Much better, thanks Phil. Can you see us?” Asked Clint. Coulson checked the cam feeds. The two assassins were facing each other, making faces.  
“Unfortunately.” Replied Coulson, keeping his voice level. He leaned on his elbows, then got up and grabbed his coffee off the table. Now that no one was there to whine about liquids near computers, it didn’t really matter. Besides, Coulson kept the coffee at least 2 feet away from sensitive objects at all times. He leaned on his elbows again, watching the wet and shiny road go by on the computer screens. Clint was humming dancing in the rain to himself over the comms, and Coulson let the familiar voice wash over him.  
“Can you stop that?” Natasha’s annoyed voice cut through Clints’ humming, bringing Coulson back into focus. Clint hummed a new song slightly louder. Coulson had no idea what song it was, but was pretty sure it was about doing whatever the hell he wanted. CLints camera swerved off to the side.  
“Ow, what was that for?”  
“What do you think it was for, birdie?” Natashas’ camera swerved to the side as well. The three agents sat in silence until the car got to the out skirts of the town. Clint and Natasha left it, and went about their business. Natasha was the welcome wagon, she was the one who would go talk to the Enhanced. Initially, CLint had complained that he was supposed to be the #1 recruiter since he had gotten Nat into SHIELD. Coulson then reminded him that technically since he had brought Clint in, he was the superior recruiter. Natasha trumped them using the background research they had all read. Clint went off into the alleys, eventually making his way to the roof he had selected for it’s amazingly good vantage points to shoot from if things went south.  
“You up in your perch, birdie?” Asked Natasha.  
“All good up here, itsy bitsy.” Retaliated Clint. Coulson sighed, and told them to get on with it, preferably before sunset. Natasha walked up to the building, seeming to blend with the crowd, causing Coulson to lose her while looking from Clint’s cam. In his defense, the picture was uncharacteristically a tiny bit grainy. Coulson flicked through the other camera feeds. They all seemed a little pixelated.  
“Hold up a second.” He said into the comms. Shield had top of the line cams, his view should have been almost HD.  
“What?” Asked Clint.  
“The feeds are a tiny bit pixelated,” responded Coulson.  
“You wanna pull the mission because the camera feeds are pixelated?” Asked Clint incredulously.  
“Well… yes.” Coulson responded.  
“You realize that this is a 3 hour time window that took weeks to set up? Besides, the cams have been a little weird before.” Clint seemed annoyed. Coulson hadn’t meant to annoy him. He just wanted him safe.  
“Ok, just be careful.”  
“Aren’t we always?” Clint singsonged.  
“No, never. You are literally never careful.” Coulson shot back at him. Natasha emerged from the sidewalk, and knocked on the door. The enhanced opened it up, Natasha flashed her badge, went inside. The door Closed behind her, and her video feed went dark.  
“Natasha?” Come in Natasha?” Coulson said, fighting down a small wave of panic. There was only static at the other end of the comms. Coulson couldn’t hear Clint either. But he could see him moving off on the roof, going for a new vantage point. There was a foyer in the entryway. No windows, they were blind, “CLint, can you hear me?” Asked Coulson.  
Clint gave a thumbs up.  
“Ok, I can see you, your cam is still up.” Clint gave another thumbs up and waited a beat before moving again.  
Then he signed something.  
“Wait, hold up, repeat that.” Coulson was not fluent in ASL, Clint knew that. He signed again, two simple motions.  
‘See her?’  
“No, she's not by any windows. I’ll let you know if she comes up on anything.” Coulson rearranged his screen so all the traffic Atm and Cell Phone cameras pointing towards the house were up. CLint’s camera was shifting side to side. He was considering something.  
“No.”  
‘No what?’  
“No you are not doing it.”  
‘Says who’  
“Me”  
‘One minute.’  
“Fine, if she doesn’t come out in one minute you can go.” Coulson sat still, silently begging Natasha to show up in a window, to get whoever, or whatever, was producing the static that was beginning to give coulson a headache, to a window.  
45 seconds passed.  
55  
‘60, sorry, going.’  
“Ok fine, but can I get you to reconsider? If she gets you a shot, only t have you not there… NAtasha has taken care of worse situations before Clint.”  
‘Sight’  
“Yes, we could hear and or see her doing it, but still.”  
‘My new person’  
“So what if you recruited her?”  
‘My problem.’ Clint was already at the door, hesitating to knock to speak with Coulson. The cam moved ina shaky motiong, and was pressed up to a black cloth.  
“Clint?” Coulson asked, “Clint are you there?” The feed was still up, and presently showed the door again.  
‘Tracker. 108945.’  
“Good idea Clint, thank you. Be careful.”  
‘Never.’  
“You are literally the worst.” The cam showed the ground for a bit, presumably because CLint was picking the lock. The door swung open, and the cam showed an empty foyer. The turning motion made Coulson dizzy. And he blinked as CLint surveyed the room. It was extremely empty. No natasha. The cam swayed over to the open door, and Coulson saw CLint’s hand reaching to close it.  
“No, don’t you fucking dare close that door. Clinton Francis Barton, do not close that–” the feed went to static too. COulson swallowed, he was not going to panic. It wouldn’t help anything. Good? Good. He calmly walked over to the phone, and called up Hill.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so I will add more, but there is no plan for this... I was just really bored and felt like writing about a mission with Clint Nat and Coulson.


End file.
